A Possible Mistake
He woke up shivering. He was curled up in a ball, hugging his arms to his chest, but his whole body was shaking. His breath was a white mist on the damp air. He coughed violently and then whimpered as pain shot through his back and arms. The stone beneath him was sticky with his own blood. Grimacing, he moved away from it, still coughing. I swear, if I catch pneumonia from this place...
He gingerly reached over his shoulder and felt raised scabs under his fingertips. Whenever he moved the scabs cracked open, almost as painful as the moment he'd first got them. Do it, said the voice in his head he liked to think of as belonging to Harry. Don't even have to Heal them completely, just accelerate the process a bit but not enough so that she notices...
For once, the passing-out would be an advantage. He certainly didn't want to spend any more time conscious in here than he had to. Breathing as slowly as he could he forced his hand a little further over his aching shoulder, and cleared his mind of thought, of as much pain as he could. Coolness - a comfortable coolness that soothed his wounds rather than aggravate them as did the chilly breeze - sunk into the scabs. He let it go on for perhaps a little longer than was safe, but when it was over he could lay back on the stone without much pain. He breathed a sigh of relief. He'd worry about the repurcussions later... right now he'd have to pay the price for the energy he'd just wasted...
The last thing he saw before losing conciousness was the ominous wardrobe in the corner. Dark and wrapped in foreboding.
He gingerly reached over his shoulder and felt raised scabs under his fingertips. Whenever he moved the scabs cracked open, almost as painful as the moment he'd first got them. Do it, said the voice in his head he liked to think of as belonging to Harry. Don't even have to Heal them completely, just accelerate the process a bit but not enough so that she notices...
For once, the passing-out would be an advantage. He certainly didn't want to spend any more time conscious in here than he had to. Breathing as slowly as he could he forced his hand a little further over his aching shoulder, and cleared his mind of thought, of as much pain as he could. Coolness - a comfortable coolness that soothed his wounds rather than aggravate them as did the chilly breeze - sunk into the scabs. He let it go on for perhaps a little longer than was safe, but when it was over he could lay back on the stone without much pain. He breathed a sigh of relief. He'd worry about the repurcussions later... right now he'd have to pay the price for the energy he'd just wasted...
The last thing he saw before losing conciousness was the ominous wardrobe in the corner. Dark and wrapped in foreboding.